Once Upon a December
by shiirojasmine
Summary: The curse is infinite. You don't die, but your memories, precious and bitter, will disappear with the last petal, and the cycle will begin again with every new wound. Arekan.
1. Scars

Kanda chewed his bottom lip, worrying the smooth flesh so much that it nearly bled. He closed his eyes and opened them, only to gaze upon the last two petals, clinging to the shriveling stalk weakly. He didn't dare touch the glass covering of the delicate flower.

He fought back a shudder as a stray wind blew in through the unfixed cracks in his window, the missing pieces of glass swept away by one of the workers. He donned a beige sweater, clutching it close to himself to save as much body heat as possible.

There's no real need to stay at the Black Order anymore, he thought absentmindedly. "General" Allen would definitely make up for his absence. Another missing exorcist wouldn't be missed much. His wounds were healing slower, he noted – much slower. It was only a matter of time… Kanda walked towards his window, watching as the snow gently fell upon the ground. Allen and Lavi were making snowmen and Linali stood safely out of the way it turned into a flurry of furious snowballs, their boisterous laughter almost made him want to smile. His fingers clenched at the window sill, and he sighed, turning away. The room seemed just a little bit colder after that.

As he walked down to the indoor hot springs, he grabbed a towel and a plain T-shirt with a pair of sweatpants and his loose sweater – everything loose comfortable unlike his usual garb.

The hot springs were thankfully empty (and the muck from a certain incident thanks to Komui's chemicals was cleaned out). Kanda sank into the water, basking in the blissfully warm water and the sweet sound of silence. He yawned, snuggling against the smooth surface of the rocks comfortably. He had been feeling more tired lately, and there was a certain weariness all the way deep down in his bones that he couldn't quite explain, especially when he had to do anything that required his body to exert more effort than usual. Maybe he was getting old…

He quickly dismissed that thought. He hadn't even grown a single strand of white hair yet, unlike that moyashi.

His fingers were starting get pruney, though Kanda would've been more than happy to become soup if it meant getting a few more minutes of warmth. Yes, he'd be very happy soup. His window probably wasn't fixed yet just to spite him.

He sighed, standing up and quickly dressed, leaving the shirt and sweater for last as he inspected his arms. He was paler than most Asians, but on his light olive skin, the white scars were pearl inlays, stretching over the flesh from his elbows to a couple inches from his wrist. He had always made an effort to hide them – the last thing he needed was Lavi or Linali, and probably Allen, on his case, demanding why he was cutting himself and that _he had to stop_. But he couldn't, not with the missions. He had to keep icy.

But I can stop if I leave now, he thought, fingering one of the many white scars. The lotus didn't heal self-inflicted wounds.

It was difficult to think clearly sometimes. He liked to think that it was all Allen's fault. That stupid moyashi. Trying to make him see the good in everything, jumbling up his mind when he didn't want it to be mixed up. But Kanda never said anything about it. Not that Allen would listen to him anyway. He go one and on about –

"Kanda?"

The disbelief in younger boy's voice shook him out of reverie, and Kanda snapped his gaze up. Allen was glancing downward, his gaze falling on the long, thin scars that decorated Kanda's arms. He quickly pulled on his T-shirt and sweater, glaring at the general while doing so.

"You might as well use the bath. I was just leaving."

Kanda shuddered, just a little bit as he felt Allen's sharpened stare trying to bore its way through his back. "Kanda, stand still," Allen commanded in his "General Allen" voice. He groaned inwardly, turning his blank face at the English boy.

"Yes?" he said, his tone flat and dry. "What do you want?" An expression of concern settled on Allen's pale face.

"Kanda, those scars --,"

"Are none of your concerns," Kanda interrupted. Walking away, he could feel the claw-like hand slipping around his wrist, clenching painfully tightly.

"Kanda, are you going through something? I'm always there to talk to you know --,"

"I don't need your stupid help!" Kanda shouted. "I'm _fine_." He ripped his arm away, storming down the halls as fast as possible. Bewildered, Allen stood there, his silver eyes eyeing the covered, scarred arms.


	2. Snippet

"I think Kanda has a problem," Allen said gravely as he set his numerous plates of heavenly ambrosia on the table.

"Are you talking about him being insomniac?" Lavi asked, slurping up his carrot soup.

"He's insomniac?" Linali questioned, blinking bewilderedly.

"No, nothing to do with his lack of sleep." Allen recalled Kanda screaming that he didn't want his help, but if his suspicions were correct, then wouldn't he actually be doing Kanda a favor if he just mentioned the scars to someone? "I think Kanda's cutting himself," he said softly.

"I know Kanda's not exactly the greatest of guys, but he's not depressed," Linali said. "If this is true, then the situation must be pretty serious. What are your thoughts on it, Lavi?"

Lavi weighed his options. To tell or not to tell. To get chewed out by Allen or not. To get kicked by Linali repeatedly in the head or not. Yup. To tell it was. Sorry Yuu, he apologized inwardly. "…I guess I _did_ see him cutting himself once." Linali leaned forward with a horrified kind of interest and Allen frowned, but it held some smugness to it. "We were on a mission – something to do with keeping icy he said – and that he could think more clearly that way." Lavi paused. "There are times when I don't see him eat either."

"Is he trying to kill himself?" Allen hissed.

"Kanda's really proud though… I can't see him as anorexic, or as a cutter." Linali thought as she caught a few loose strands of her short unkempt hair in a twirl around her finger. "At least, not without a good reason."

"Guys, I really think we should get some help for Kanda."

"Allen, we're not professionals… except for Lavi. You're kind of questionable, being Bookman's apprentice and all." Lavi nodded as they finished the rest of their lunch. Allen frowned.

"We haven't solved the problem yet," he pointed out. Linali nodded.

"Yes Allen, but we can't just confront him. I mean, what if he really _is_ a cutter? He might end up purposely killing himself the second you try something like that."

"Has anyone but me just noticed that Kanda hasn't come down for breakfast _and_ lunch?" Lavi piped up, suddenly remembering that little detail that seemed just a little bit more hazardous from the depressing subject Allen had chosen to bring up as dinner conversation. Linali and Allen glanced at each other, their eyes mirroring the horror they felt.

Lavi sighed as he ran beside them, rushing up the stairs as Linali activated her Dark Boots. The next thing he and Allen knew, Kanda's poor door laid on the floor in smithereens, flying about in the air.

They paled.

Allen choked back a fearful gasp.

The shattered window was open. Wind blew fitfully, tumbling along in the room.

The room, stripped bare, was empty.

Kanda was gone.

000

Ink spilled across the sky, lightened in some areas by water droplets. The world seemed to be colored in black and white, but to him, it was always the same dark and light tones. He could barely distinguish the colors around him as he gazed out at the horizon and the ghostly apparitions of the villagers meandered around him.

Kanda smiled as a warm hard, a lady's hand, much larger than his curled around him, and through the blurs, he could see a bright smile aimed at him. She spoke, her voice soft and low as she crooned his name, rocking their clasped hands back and forth as they walked, and she whispered, "My baby, my baby," over and over again. There was certain desperation in her voice – and maybe fear.

The woman picked him up, clutching him against her warm, shuddering chest as she broke into a run. He was cradled alongside with a sheathed katana, a little less than twice his size. He could hear the ragged breathing of the woman as she ran down the mountain, not once looking back.

So he looked back for her.

Metal monster, he thought.

It flew close, but it always remained at a distance, but it seemed determined to follow, cutting through the cold air as swiftly and effortlessly as wind. Its cold eyes fixed on him, and if he listened closely he could hear something – someone – weeping. The monster, maybe?

Kanda cringed as its screeching laughter echoed around him, mocking the woman, jeering. It only urged the woman to speed faster. He could hear the wild pounding of her heart, trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her dark eyes lightened as the town at the end of the mountain came into view, the soft glow of fires through the wooden windows lighting the town.

The woman's grip around him tightened around him and the blade. He squirmed, feeling the sword's hard surface digging into his soft flesh. Her hand ruffled his hair, nervously and comfortingly, to serve as a temporary consolation, as if to say: Bear with it. We're almost there. But where was she taking him?

She finally set him down; exhausted from her continuous run, but it didn't stop her from urging him to run. She paled as she saw the monster bearing down on them. She scrambled, pushing him forward to the loud clatter of whistles cutting through the twilight air.

Hurry, hurry, she seemed to whisper. A train was beginning to run, the smoke beginning to rise in the air and the wheels turned.

The woman ran, dragging his hand behind her harshly, causing him to wince. She cried out, and was pulled onto the last car of the train off the iron train tracks. He couldn't keep up. His legs gave out. He fell, face first into the snow with the sword lying still next to him. The woman screamed, tears running down her cheeks as she reached out for him over the ledge.

000

Kanda's eyes fluttered open. The train was pulling to a stop, forcing him out of his sleep, forcing the dream of a memory to fade back out of the consciousness and into the cobwebby recesses of his mind.

But a little snippet remained behind – that woman's face. Nothing else. Her face was somewhat similar to his, but with a softer, kinder quality. She was much paler than he was, though.

The whistle shrieked. The passengers around him shuffled, gathering their possessions. His exorcist jacket had been replaced with a blood red, long overcoat that trailed somewhere down to his ankles. It was warm, but it did nothing to ease the sharp pangs of hunger down in his stomach. Mugen was wrapped to avoid any hassling; and the few clothes he possessed and the lotus with its hourglass cage was buried deep in the small leather suitcase he took with him.

He stepped onto the platform, the wind chilling him. He untied the hair tie, deciding to wear his hair down and wrapped the light blue scarf around his neck tighter.

Kanda plunged his hand into the deep pocket of his overcoat, pulling out the map of the town. There should be hotel around here somewhere.

The town was like any other town he had visited on missions, save for the more famous places such as London or Paris, but there was a freedom he couldn't remember ever feeling ever since how he mysteriously entered the Black Order.

He was thankful that his knee-high leather boots were waterproof. There had be at least three inches of snow blanketing the ground. The wind blew, biting into him as it blew him forward.


	3. Bounty

Kanda gaped in dismay at the hourglass, his eyebrows knitting together in worry. He didn't even do anything this time.

But it fell anyway.

A lone petal teetered, torn between deciding to join its fallen siblings or to stay on just a little longer to keep him company. "Don't leave," Kanda whispered as he crawled out of the bed, the quilts rustling around his thinning body. The hourglass was set on the table, far away from the edge to avoid accidents. He listened carefully. He thought he could hear the petals resting at the bottom of the hourglass laughing, encouraging the last petal to jump, to be with them. It scared him.

He surveyed the room, noticing the blatant differences between his real room and the one he was occupying. Where was he? He placed his fingertips on his head, pressing against his temples. Yes, he ran away from the Black Order. He was in a town, still somewhere in England.

I have to eat, he decided. While dressing, he noticed the sharpness of his lean hips and the trail of ribs protruding along his chest. It bothered him. Now that he wasn't in the Black Order anymore, he could eat. He hated blood. He didn't enjoy seeing it. It made him want to retch, so he rarely ate when he fought Akuma. His stomach protested against these thoughts.

The cafeteria was a small place. Kanda sat by the fireplace, watching as the fire flickered back and forth merrily, almost as if it were alive. "Would you like to order something, sir?" a waitress asked. She grinned widely. Her eyelashes moved at a rapid pace. Kanda blinked. Was there something wrong with her eyes? His stomach throbbed, demanding to be filled _now_ so just ignore the weird girl and get breakfast.

"I'd like some coffee, and a bowl of oatmeal." He didn't feel like he was ready to eat soba yet. It really wasn't good for the stomach to eat something so unhealthy when you weren't that healthy to begin with. There was also a little fact that they probably didn't serve any Japanese food around here.

"Anything else you'd like?" the waitress asked sweetly, her eyelashes fluttering again.

"No thank you," Kanda replied, slightly irritated. He shifted in his seat, willing the girl to hurry up with his order. The girl sighed, turning away as her shoulders hunched together. Kanda looked away, wondering what that was all about.

A stack of newspapers lied in the middle of table, waiting to be read by human eyes. Kanda leaned forward, picking up one, halfheartedly thumbing through the pages. A picture caught his attention:

Missing: Yuu Kanda

His pale face was pasted underneath, thin with high, sharp cheekbones and bruise-like shadows underneath his dark eyes, framed by dark bluish locks of hair, neat but uneven from dodging blades in battle. When were his eyes so empty?

His hands shook slightly. They were looking for him. They were going to take him back, and Death would come for him all that sooner. He didn't bother looking at the prize they offered for his "safe return". The last thing he wanted to know how much he was worth in their eyes.

Food was set in front of him. He quickly snapped the newspapers closed, taking the page from that newspaper and crumpling it in his fist. He dug into the oatmeal so fast he nearly choked, downing it along with the tongue-burning coffee. If his picture was already in the papers, he had to move – fast.

"I'm in a hurry, when's the next train?" Kanda demanded to the innkeeper. Startled, the poor man nearly spilled his hot tea all over himself. Staring at Kanda's half-emaciated face, the man's forehead began dripping with cold sweat.

"In… in about twenty minutes," the innkeeper squeaked. Kanda thought for a moment. It took about fifteen minutes to walk from the train station to here, so if he paid now, that would take about three minutes, leaving two minutes for him to wait for the train, maybe more if he ran all the way.

He buckled up the straps of his tall boots, running out the doorway as he hastily left the exact change on the counter. His body moved more agreeably with the warmth of food down in his stomach. He hadn't felt this good in awhile, not with all the missions left and right, demanding his attention and the sharp clarity of his mind.

Kanda frowned as he tried to speed up. If he hadn't eaten, maybe he could've been pushed to go faster. He tried to shove away the thoughts to the side, along with the comfortable warmth he could feel his mind slipping into, and tried to focus on the cutting edge of the winter bite.

Faster, faster, his mind chanted. He had to catch their train. There was no rush really. At the pace he was going, he should reach the station before that train did, but a thought kept nagging him. What if the Black Order was already on their way? Another related thought brought a chill down his spine. What if they were already here?

Please, no, he thought. He didn't want to deal with them. It would be too troublesome. He would never get another day of peace again, not with the constant worried and disappointed stares. What if everyone decided he couldn't be trusted, that he was too unstable and had to be chained to the bed until he was completely rendered harmless. No, Kanda Yuu was sane. And he refused to be caught.

Other than the chattering of townsmen, Kanda could hear nothing in the distance. That was a good thing. He slowed his steps as he reached the tall platform, disappearing through the mingling crowd. He tucked his long black hair underneath his overcoat, hoping that it would make him less recognizable. Maybe he was being paranoid, but it never hurt to be careful. If he was lucky, maybe the Black Order's incentive wasn't enough for anyone to come looking for him willingly.

He had time to pay for the train fare, a notion that hadn't occurred to him until after his sprint, and he was glad he decided to run the way to the station. Entering the train, he settled in his seat, wishing that the train would just hurry up and move.

000

"Allen? Allen." Linali waved her hand in front of the general's face. Honestly! The one day where she had some kind of information on Kanda, Allen decided he wanted to act depressed and all "leave me alone". She was about to shout in his ear for some kind of reaction until he finally looked at her.

"Sorry, I was just thinking…" His voice held a kind of wistful dazedness. "What just happened?"

"Nothing, but if you don't want to hear the news I have then I'll just take my leave now."

Allen sighed. "Alright, let's hear it then…"

Linali smiled. "The bad or good news first?"

"Bad of course."

"We still don't know where Kanda is."

Allen snorted. "As if we didn't already know that."

"The good news is," she paused for more dramatic effect, "there's been a spotting of him in a little town off the east of here." Before Allen could smile or say anything, Linali decided to dash his hopes. "Unfortunately, knowing what a fickle Kanda is, I'm sure he's somewhere far, _far_ away by now."

"What kind of good news was that then?" Allen grumbled. It didn't make sense to Allen why he was getting so worked up on Kanda's case. The Japanese boy had never been particularly kind to him. The two years that Allen had lived at the Black Order and the fact Kanda had still called him Moyashi, the brawls that they managed to get into (which had lessened ever since he had become a general, and much to his embarrassment, he was doing the picking now) before Kanda left was proof of that.

Maybe it was the fact Allen considered them friends, even though he personally believed that Kanda wouldn't even know the meaning of the word even if it was staring him in the face. "How much do you miss him?" Allen glanced at the girl in surprise.

"I don't know. A lot, I guess," Allen replied. He sighed, stretching his hands across the table as he slumped. "It just makes me kind of anxious."

"Because he's your friend?"

Allen hesitated. "Because he's my friend," he nodded. Kanda was thinner than average – for the missions. He was cutting himself on the missions. Allen could see Kanda would be the type to hurt himself if he failed a mission too. As much as it made him unhappy to even mull over such a thought, Kanda probably _would_ be better off never returning to the Black Order. And… and… and shouldn't friends do what was best for other friends?

But it couldn't be wrong if Allen wanted to see if Kanda was alright, right?


	4. El Cazador

Kanda surveyed the world map (yellowing, especially from the tea Allen had spilled all over it one lunch hour), his eyes scanning for possible stops – every one of them more than hundreds of miles – maybe even a thousand – away from the Black Order. But if the Black Order really wanted him back that badly, there was really nowhere he could run. Kanda entertained the thought of going to America. The journey would take weeks, not to mention expensive, but he did have some money – more than enough to last him a lifetime actually, something that had been with him before life at the Black Order. He wondered what kind of brief life he had been living then.

As an exorcist, Kanda never really took the time to learn about the places that he was sent to, and he wasn't exactly interested in knowing either. Still, he knew he was someplace close to the sea, but whether or not he was still in England, he hadn't checked. He shrugged. He'll know when he steps into a crowd of yapping fools.

But the second he stepped off that train and into the coastal town, Kanda could almost distinguish nothing. It was a jumble of Spanish, Chinese, English, French, and almost everything else in between. Some of the accents were terrible as people in the crowd attempted to speak to one another. He'd thought he'd get a headache from trying to figure out what the burly man had been trying say by directing him to where the ports were, but apparently hanging around a person who slurred his words nearly all the time (namely Lavi) made him almost immune to the atrocity of language butchering.

After spending about three seconds to decipher the slurred words, Kanda headed toward the ports. The smell of the sea grew stronger, the stench of salt in the air assaulting his nose. Kanda didn't really mind it all that much, but he did dislike getting sand in his shoes. It would be all that more uncomfortable if any of it managed to get into his boots.

There was no snow here, and the sea was unchangeably moving in gentle waves as Kanda walked out, glancing at the monstrous ships, carved out of thick, polished wood. "Do any of these go out to America?"

A healthy-looking sailor stopped heaving a bundle of things onto his broad, thick shoulder to think. "Uh… yeah, I think that one does – the _El Cazador_." _El Cazador _appeared to be sturdy enough, and the tall mast made it seem to stand tall and proud, but Kanda was hardly one to be admiring ships.

000

Allen couldn't believe he was so stupid that he hadn't actually thought of it earlier. He was a general. Therefore, he had the right to go on long, mindlessly wandering trips like a certain-general/master-of-his-whose-name-will-not-be-mentioned. It didn't really matter that said mindlessly wandering trip is going to be devoted to Kanda. Besides, no one was stop him even if they didn't like Kanda and wanted to object. It was, to him, a brilliant idea.

But somehow, Linali and Lavi didn't think so. "Moyashi-chan," Lavi never did drop that nickname, aggravating when anybody other than Kanda said it, "Let's take a second to actually _think_ here. If Kanda's gone, and he's definitely gone, then he's got to be miles away, maybe in some other _country_ by now."

"That's what we have research for," Allen quipped easily, donning his exorcist uniform with the special gold trimmings.

"Research can only take you so far."

"Wow Lavi, I didn't know you were actually capable of saying things that went against your training." Lavi winced at the mention of his work. Linali squeezed the redhead's hand gently.

"What Lavi means Allen, is that you can't just rely on the little bits and pieces you get to find someone." She gestured, spreading her thin arms. "This is the whole world! He can be anywhere. He's not even a little dot here, so how do you expect to find him, especially when he's going to up and move? I don't think the posters and stuff we've been putting up help much, either."

"That's why," Allen said, "if you want something done, you have to take matters into your own hands." Linali rolled her dark eyes in exasperation.

"Fine, don't say we didn't warn you when you come back five years later with nothing to show for your hard work."

"Linali, if you wanted to go, why don't you just tell him? _He's_ not going to get what you mean. Pfft. Girls," Lavi said. Linali glared at him mildly, crossing her arms in disapproval before turning to look at Allen expectantly. The white-haired boy shrugged.

"I never said you couldn't come."

000

Kanda never got seasick, but he thought he might be a little green from watching the other passengers on the ship dumping the contents of their stomachs into the greenish-blue water. Other than that, he felt comfortable, with the cool winds blowing against him and the white moon shining above gently. At the sight of another man rushing to the ledge and puking his guts out though, Kanda decided it was time to retreat back to his cabin.

It was an average-sized room, and the worst thing about it was that he had three other roommates. Thankfully, they knew when to keep quiet. He flopped onto the bottom bunk, his dark hair splaying over the white linen sheets. There was not too much to do around the ship, and he didn't intend to be cabin boy.

One of his roommates entered. The boy ignored Kanda, heading onto the bunk above him. A moment later, he could hear the other's head hitting against the pillow and some soft snores. Kanda was an extremely light sleeper, something he blamed also on the Dark Order missions. He'll have to ask for some ear plugs later.

The sky was darkening, and off some feet somewhere he could hear the bell ringing – signifying that it was around an hour – 10:00.

Kanda sat up, frustrated. He couldn't sleep. He shook his head in exasperation, deciding to go out once more.

People were dancing, sailors and passengers alike of many ethnicities. Young men dragged him towards him, pushing a tall mug of foaming liquid. Women and men laughed, urging, pushing him to drink. Kanda sniffed it cautiously. He narrowed his eyes as he took a small gulp. He frowned at the bitter taste, but the good thing was that it was warm going down.

What am I doing? He thought as he downed the mug, swiping another. This was so unlike him. Stupid party, happy atmosphere.


	5. Dancing Mouse

Kanda's mouth was opened slightly and his eyes widened in mock surprise. Blood spilled for, pelting against his pale face and torso. Panicked whispers filled the air, and the hushed murmurs became screams of shock and desperation. Hands reached out, pulling him back. Are you alright? Did you get hurt?

Kanda stared indifferently at the bloodied body, pale and still as its blood spilled over the smoothly tiled floor. Its long golden hair were drenched in the coppery red liquid that gushed from its pale neck, and the woman beside him chuckled gleefully in silence as she slipped thick wads of money down the pockets of his tight leather pants. "You did perfectly," she whispered as she patted him on the top of his head, and then she laughed eerily underneath her breath. It's all mine now.

Kanda simply looked at the corpse. His hand then slipped down his pocket, fingering the heaviness of the money that weighed him down. He gave a curt nod to the woman, slipping past the frightened crowd as he retied his hair into the high ponytail he became accustomed to with the dark red ribbon.

It was a cold day. He wrapped his dark purple winter frock closer to him, and he blew his hot breath between his icy fingers. He had more than enough money to buy himself a pair of gloves, but something down in his gut wrenched. He felt a tinge of guilt as he fingered the little dagger hidden in his sleeve as he awkwardly carried the sword in the crook of his elbow. He adjusted it more comfortably. He needed some kind of belt to strap it to his back.

Kanda couldn't quite remember how old he is exactly – maybe around seven or eight, but he found out that he was really _good_ at certain things: killing among one of the many. A thrill ran through him whenever he'd slip his hand down a man's pocket, reaching for the velvet bags or wallets, stuffed full with thin crisp bills and heavy coins; or whenever he slip past a crowd, his hands picking the silk scarves, hats, golden watches encrusted with diamonds, and strawberry-sized gems delicately. Kanda almost laughed at the thought of it. He had acquired quite a sum over the last year. But having money was troublesome. He had no idea where to keep it without losing it all in one night.

Some people, if they knew him just enough to get a sense of his personality and nothing else, would say he lost a majority of his innocence when he lost his mother.

But he really liked what he did, so whether or not what he did wrong right now wasn't too bad. People went easy on children anyways. No one would throw him in jail. He knew how he looked. Women gave little sighs whenever he approached them, purposefully or not, patting his head, wishing that he was around their age, for he would surely grow to be a handsome man.

"Old man," he had said softly. He entered the dusty, small shop as the little bells at the top of the door tinkled with the movement. He took care; making sure the blood was off his face. The old man was stooped over his counter, his nose buried between the pages of a thick book. Mr. Finnegan glanced up. His dark eyes were sunken deep into their sockets, but they were smiling.

Mr. Finnegan nodded in acknowledgement. Kanda emptied his pockets save for the money, slipping him the jewels and valuables he had stolen earlier during the day. Mr. Finnegan wiped his spectacles before gently dusting the gems, polishing them with admiration.

"I hope you're not going to get too stuck-up on me, child, what with all the high-society fools you've been hanging around with as of late," he had told Kanda as he filled the little cotton bag with bills and coins. Kanda shook his head reassuringly with a faint smile as he buried the bad along the folds of the linen wrapped around the sword.

Mr. Finnegan's granddaughter appeared; coughing as she clutched a thick cashmere shawl around her shoulders – nothing to Mr. Finnegan, was too good for his precious Ellie, his only family. She was a sickly child, and it always bothered Kanda that she could smile so brightly and innocently.

Her soft, white blond hair was cut away, leaving behind longish soft wisps that decorated her head and flew into her face. Despite her big, round watery blue eyes, he had never seen her cry, not once.

Ellie's smile widened as she caught sight of him, and she lifted her arms and wrapped them around him affectionately in a familial fashion. They felt thin, even through the wool gray frock she wore. She told him it was good seeing him and that he should come by more often.

"When I have more time," he had replied. She simply nodded in acceptance, and then she began chatting about what customers had walked into the store earlier in the day before him. She went into another fit of coughs; Mr. Finnegan leaned forward in concern, patting her back firmly. She waved him away, pulling out a wooden mouse from the folds of her skirt.

"I have a neat trick to show you," she said excitedly. "One of the customers that came in today taught me!" The old man sat him down on the tall pile of huge books – antiques, but the old man didn't mind.

Ellie began to sing, settling the mouse beside Kanda. Her voice was bell-like, high, and clear. It was a very soft sound as she vocalized gently. Watch the mouse, not her, Mr. Finnegan mouthed.

Kanda begun to feel stupid as he watched the mouse stare back at him as still and lifeless as it had been from the moment it was done carving. And then the wooden mouse did the most peculiar thing.

It moved.

Kanda watched in amazement as the mouse's nose twitched, and after a few seconds it ran up and down the counter before placing its tiny wooden palms on the side of his thigh. Ellie shifted her voice, and the mouse began to dance, swaying with dervish.

Her coughs interrupted her song, and Kanda watched with fascination as the mouse stiffened back in its natural pose. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know, that customer – an old painter – I met today said that I had a gift." Mr. Finnegan smiled proudly as he handed her a glass of water, which she thanked him gratefully. "Do you want to learn?" Kanda shook his head, declining.

Mr. Finnegan turned to him. "Won't you stay for dinner?"

000

Kanda clutched his head. His head pounded, throbbing with pain as he shifted on the bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. "No offense, but can you quit moaning? I know all that beers probably have gone to your head but some of us are trying to sleep here," one of his roommates said grumpily from across him.

Kanda bit down on his lower lip, burying his face into the soft pillow, willing his headache to go away. He wondered if the headache was really only from the alcohol or from the memory dream. More than likely, it was both. Only now, he really felt like he had little to show for it.

Mr. Finnegan.

Ellie.

Two names that danced in his mind before subsiding again, fading away from the snores of his roommates. Kanda sighed, turning on his side. It's not like he was in a rush to find out anything.

He lied back on his back, staring up at the mattress from above. He closed his eyes one more time, humming underneath his breath a familiar, yet foreign lullaby.

000

"Excuse me, have you seen this man?" Allen asked patiently, which Linali thought was amazing, considering this was probably the 11th time he had asked the same question to the same nearly deaf woman. Allen was about to give up after coming this far though. The hag held up a hand to her ear, confusion spreading all over her face.

Allen sighed deeply through his nose, borrowing pen from Lavi to scribble down words on the sketch of Kanda: Have you seen this man? "Oh… that's a him? I though he was a lass when I laid eyes on him – granted, a somewhat flattish lass, but still, a lass with a rather pretty face. "

"Yes, that would be Kanda." _Girly face_. He mused how Kanda was in denial about his facial features.

"I'm not sure if I'm right – I am an old woman, mind you," _I believe we've established that_, Allen thought dryly, "but I believe he went that away." A long, wrinkled finger trembled, pointing into the direction of the seaports.

"Thank you, dear lady," Allen said hurriedly as Lavi and Linali rushed behind him. Allen hoped this wouldn't come to a dead end.


	6. Inequal America

"Look, America!" a little boy shouted to his parents as he ran over to the ledge, pointing to the strip of land in front of them. The bay was foggy, covered in mist. It felt moist and chilly, but it didn't bother Kanda too much. He closed his eyes, allowing the zephyrs to caress his face.

They landed in New York – a city bustling with life. People crowded past him, shoving to get off onto the wonderful land, free of seasickness.

Kanda ignored the stares, some of disgust, interest, and hatred – yes, prejudice was very much alive here in America, not that some of the Englishmen he met were perfect gentlemen. As he walked into a coffee shop, the people stilled, turning their heads to peer at him. Kanda snorted, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Black coffee," Kanda ordered.

The man at the counter blinked. "_Excuse me_?" He sounded angry, insulted.

"I said, I wanted black coffee," Kanda repeated with deliberate slowness. "Funny, I thought most people here'd be able to speak English."

"I can too speak English!" the man snarled. _Che. Childish._ "Better than some Jap!" he added superiorly.

"Oh? I suppose you know what 'ludicrous' means then," Kanda quipped casually.

The man stared at him blankly. "Uh…"

"Exactly. Now I demand that you give me coffee." Kanda's eyes narrowed, underlying a threat in his words.

The man hurriedly poured the black liquid into a mug, spitting into it when he thought Kanda wasn't looking. "Here," he snapped. Kanda stared at the contents before shrugging. He tipped it over, watching with pleasure as the boiling contents spilled all over the white man's shirt.

"You – you better pay for this!" the man sputtered. Kanda sniggered.

"I think not." And with that, he walked out of the entrance, ignoring the shocked pairs of eyes boring into his back. The service here wasn't much worse in some places back home.

000

Allen was slumped all over the edge of the railing. Lavi was holding his long white hair back, looking away as Allen was currently spilling the contents of his stomach into the sea. "This has to be one of the worst jobs ever," the redhead said, patting the young general on his back.

"At least you're not the one that has to get rid of excrement back in the days of the Renaissance era," Linali said.

"Yeah, there's that too," even though Lavi knew this himself already. Still, it felt good to be able to say it.

Allen staggered as he leaned against the railing for balance, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I feel like I never want to eat again," he moaned.

"You'll forget you ever said that in the next half hour."

"You know what I mean, guys."

Allen retied the mussed strands of his white hair back with the black tie, trying to ignore the beginnings of yet another wave of nausea. Allen wasn't sure what day it was, but he was sure it was either the fifth or sixth day. We'll be there soon, he assured himself. Still, he really did dislike waiting.

000

"Yuki? What are you doing here?" Kanda turned, confusion flitting across his face. A young girl, around Allen's age with the same nearly white-blond boyishly cut hair and pale silvery blue eyes, stood in front of him, a little weak looking, but with a large grin that faltered slightly when she realized she got the wrong person. "Oh! Sorry," she smiled, blushing shyly at her mistake. "It's just you look very much like a friend of mine."

Kanda shook his head politely. This was a girl; therefore he was obligated to be civil. The girl scratched her cheek sheepishly. "I'm sorry, it's strange of me to ask this of a stranger, but can you help me find my friend? I haven't been able to find her around today at all…" Kanda shrugged. It's not like he had anything better to do anyway.

"Have you checked the places she usually goes?" he said, offering advice.

She thought. "I have, but she wasn't anywhere. I know I've sent her off today to buy groceries." She bit down on her lower lip, obviously worried. "I probably shouldn't have done that though, I mean the white men around here! So rude to non-white girls! I'm ashamed to know that I'm a part of the same race as them," she ranted.

"I've kind of noticed," Kanda said, thinking back to the treatment at the café. It was funny watching the man at the counter sputter though.

"I hope nothing's happened to her. Even if she _can _take care of herself, she's still a girl."

"And you are…?"

The girl apologized. "I'm Ellie Stones, nice to meet you Mr.…"

"Kanda. Just Kanda," he replied curtly.

"Kanda?" Ellie repeated, her eyes flashing with something. "As in, Kanda Yuu?" Kanda grimaced, backing away warily. Was she a bounty hunter or something? He didn't say anything, but Ellie smiled, reaching for his hand gently.

"I missed you. Grandfather's still around," she said softly. What is she talking about, Kanda thought, uncomfortable from the sudden contact. She smiled slightly. "I guess Yuki can wait. How many years has it been? Nearly a decade! I guess that explains why you can't remember me so well…" She pulled on his arm. "So, let's go see Grandfather."

Kanda was pulled forward. He could feel the stares of astonishment, hate, and wonder gliding over them. Ellie seemed oblivious to the extra, unwanted attention, very focused at the matter in hand. Some land of equality. To hell with the "all men are created equal" thing here. It seemed in America, white men were created a little – in their opinions, a lot – more equal than the rest. Stupid hypocrites.

000

Yuki sat casually, tilting her chair back as far as she possibly could without falling as she sipped away at a cup of sweet red tea leisurely. She was very pleased that she just gotten out of a scrape after leaving the market. Her hand was still a tiny bit pink from "accidentally" punching the teeth out of those creeps, but she didn't care. It was a small price to pay to see the white guys on the ground writhing in pain. And she didn't get in trouble either. Really, the law enforcement these days were so lazy. Even if the cops even bothered trying to bring her in, they run too slow anyway.

Mr. Finnegan had gained more gray hairs over the years, and he hummed lightly as he stirred a boiling pot of curry. He made a startled little cry as his apprentice – Carlisle – almost dropped their only set of china onto the wooden floor. The German girl began to apologize repeated, her honey brown eyes tearing up at the possible prospect of being disowned. "Will you be done anytime soon?" Yuki enquired, pouring herself another cup tea. Mr. Finnegan was really good at making tea.

"A few more minutes," the old man said cheerily, trying to comfort tearful girl. The spicy smell wafted all over the room, and Yuki sniffed it with appreciation.

"Smells good, sir." The door to their small apartment opened with a loud click, revealing Ellie with a tall boy at her side, who was clearly uncomfortable to be here, but that didn't matter. This was just too weird. He looked too much like herself for her liking.

"Yuki!" Ellie cried, clinging to the older girl. "I thought something might've happened to you since it took you so long to get back!" She offered a more respectful greeting to Mr. Finnegan and Carlisle.

"Relax, I was back 10 minutes ago," Yuki said, patting Ellie's arm. "There's no need to worry about me anyway. I happen to be stronger than most guys we meet."

"And most of them wouldn't go after you if you didn't dress up as a man," Ellie countered. Yuki snorted.

"Can you actually _see_ me wearing that kind of stuff?" she said, horrified. No, no. She _hated_ dresses. Too bad they loved her.

"You'd look very pretty."

"Ellie, just shut up," she grumbled. Kanda stood at the kitchen doorway, almost smiling at their playful banter, making him think of his daily arguments with Moyashi. The thought of the white-haired general made his mouth curve downward slightly. If only Moyashi hadn't see his scars. He looked over at the bickering two, thinking that if you ignore the fact that they were both girls and if Ellie wasn't wearing a dress and was almost as tall as her friend, they might be able to pass for Moyashi and him. Only Kanda didn't have purplish brown highlights in his hair.

Ellie pulled Yuki over to Kanda with a grin plastered over her pale, white face. "Yuki, this is Yuu Kanda. Yuu, this is Yuki Charles."

"_Yoroshiku_," Yuki said stiffly, holding out her hand to him. Kanda took it, shaking slightly.

"Likewise."

000

"I'm bored!" Lavi whined, slumping against the table surface, his lips curled into a pout.

"They why don't you try flirting with someone – there's always a girl around somewhere for you to find. Hey look, there's Linali. She seems to be lax about you coming onto her lately… I bet you she likes you."

"Wow Allen, you just noticed?" Lavi said sarcastically.

"Excuse me if I'm a little slow on the uptake," Allen bit.

"And it's because of that Yuu-chan is now God-knows-where in the world."

"We know that there's a possibility that he's in America," Allen pointed out.

"Aside from the obvious," Lavi said. "What do you plan on doing when you find him anyway?"

"I…" Allen thought. "I suppose I just want to know how he's doing." He sighed. Lavi stared.

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," Lavi shrugged, "it seems to me that you like him."

Allen frowned. "I – it's not like that. I don't like him – not like that." The redhead rolled his eyes, smirking lightly.

"_Sure_, Allen, I believe you. Now, I'm going to flirt with Linali like you suggested, so bye." As Allen watched his senior strut up to the Chinese girl, he couldn't help but think, _what was that all about?_


End file.
